NEWS

​I’ve heard the wreckage in the North Carolina mountains from Tropical Storm Helene described as “our Hurricane Katrina,” “apocalyptic,” “horrifying,” “Biblical,” and more. Whether you have family and friends who live there or have simply enjoyed the melody of a highland creek, the beauty of a mountain view, or the brilliant fall foliage among the peaks, the news is overwhelming.

I, for one, am having trouble absorbing the catastrophic nature of what’s happened. It seemed to come slowly, in dribs and drabs: one friend shared a terrifying text she received from a close friend whose neighbor had the front of her house torn off; another friend reported that her sister who lived in Lake Lure was safe, but the town had been obliterated. Those snippets were enough to put me in shock.

It usually takes time to assess the damage after a major hurricane, and it likely took longer in the mountains due to accessibility—power was out, there was no WIFI, and so many homes are in isolated areas.

So, when the trickle of news turned into a deluge of images and videos on social media, it became apparent that Helene had decimated not just one or two communities, but a wide swath encompassing most of our beloved North Carolina mountains, extending into Tennessee and parts of South Carolina, Georgia, and, of course, Florida.

As someone who lived on the coast of both Florida and North Carolina and grew up with hurricanes, not only did it seem wrong for one to hit in the mountains, but the massive devastation is beyond imaginable. Seeing clips of roaring flood waters washing away tractor trailers, highways, and homes is truly horrifying, especially given that this information was being delivered through the intimacy of my iPhone rather than the television, where an authoritative news anchor would caution “some of these images might be disturbing.”

Like many of you, I probably spent more time than I should scrolling through these reels and videos. I wanted to absorb what I was seeing and to know the extent of the damage. But what I saw was hundreds of personal horrors along with unimaginable stories. I have no context for this kind of extensive destruction, no place to put this series of tragedies. Part of me wanted to bury it so I could shut off my whirling emotions and find rest.

I can’t help but wonder if our whole country is becoming immune to the barrage of intimate horrors we live with daily. If not, are we equipped to find meaning in the reality of such tragedies?

Seeing the number of people stepping out to help their neighbors breaks me out of my trance of helplessness and brings me hope. In our own community, Adah Fitzgerald of Main Street Books and Karen Toney of Ben & Jerry’s Ice Cream were two among many who combined forces to provide a drop-off point for supplies for the victims of Helene. On social media, there are calls for donations for Operation Air Drop, offers of stalls for those needing to house horses, people sharing traffic information and names of survivors, and many more services.

I’m reminded of Mr. Rogers and his mother’s advice: “Look for the helpers.” In the midst of our greatest storms, we too should look for the helpers and join them.